


Tumblr Ficlets

by dragonspell



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Molestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: Short scenes originally posted on Tumblr that don't rate their own post.  Rating and tags to change as updated.1. Coldwave, Leonard saves Mick.  2. OMCs/Leonard, threats while face down on a desk.  3. Mick looks after pissed off!cat Len





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: <http://dragonspell26.tumblr.com/post/159081133163/legendsofprisonbreak-dirty-half-dozen-can> under an accompanying gif.

After the Oculus blows up and Mick’s life with it, Mick’s just going through the motions of living. Sure, there’s still some things that can make him smile—good food, cheap booze, a stupid rat—but it’s only temporary. Mick gets used to it. It’s the new normal.

One day, in a damn frozen wasteland, the team gets pinned down by this cackling metahuman with crazy powers. Strong, fast, he takes down Jax first so that he and the professor can’t fuse. Mick’s tossed aside, skidding over the snow with his ears ringing like fucking church bells. Sara’s next, with Nate along the way because the guy uses Nate’s steel-hard head to knock her out, and Rip gets hit by both of them when they’re thrown away like broken toys. Ray’s suit get’s busted, mechanical parts screwing up with a shower of sparks, and Amaya gets tossed over a cliff. Mick stares down at where she landed, makes sure that she’s still breathing and struggles to his feet. He brings the heat gun back up to fricassee the bastard, but it and Mick are knocked to the ground like the guy’s swatting away a fly. Mick scrambles back to his feet again and squares up because if this is it, he’s going down fighting.

“Let’s put you on ice,” a voice says and Mick’s eyes widen because it can’t be. It can’t fucking be. Lenny is dead, has been dead, and this isn’t the time or place for one of Mick’s hallucinations. Except the metahuman apparently hears it to because he swings his head to the side towards where the voice came from. The wind picks up, snow blowing, whipping around into a little mini-ice tornado that surrounds the metahuman, separating him from Mick. And there, in the middle of it, is Leonard fucking Snart spiraling upward, blue parka and all, using the cold gun as a damn booster rocket, newly formed ice bridge corkscrewing out of the ground to send him catapulting into the air.

 _Where the hell did he learn that from?_ It is the most impressive, larger-than-life thing he’s ever seen Len do and considering that Len’s an infamous, world-class thief with a flare for theatrics and armed with a gun that reaches sub-zero temperatures, that’s fucking saying something.

A mini glacier forms under where Len’s keeping himself suspended and then the cold gun cuts out and Len plummets downward. He slams into the chunk of ice and sends it crashing down on top of the metahuman, knocking him down for the first time since the Waverider had touched down. Len lands on top of the guy and then points his gun downward again, turning the metahuman into part of the landscape by freezing him into place. The swirling wind dies back down, the snow settling into place. “That should help you cool down,” Len drawls.

Threat dealt with, Len steps away and braces his gun against his shoulder. He looks at Mick and smiles. “You okay there, partner?” Len asks and Mick’s stomach does a little swoop inside of him as his knees tremble. The thought that this must be how the chick in an action movie feels when the hero comes to rescue her flashes through Mick’s mind before he can catch it. Mick stares at Len, framed by the broken ramp he’d created in a matter of seconds, and figures it isn’t too far off the mark. Len pushes down his hood and comes closer. “Mick?”

“’m fine,” Mick chokes out. His heart’s racing, his hands can’t seem to stop shaking and he might be about to fucking swoon like some bad stereotype out of one of Lisa’s trashy romance novels, but, yeah, Mick’s fine. Len’s back. And, oh, yeah, Mick’s dick is trying to bust through his jeans, inappropriate timing or not, because his lips to God’s ears, that was the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever seen in his life. Mick’s tongue twists around on itself when he tries to tell Len that, a low guttural groan coming out instead. He swallows, then tries for the simpler, “How?”

Len shrugs. “Something I picked up after the time stream dumped me out.” He regards Mick for a moment, then holds up his gun. Frost starts to wrap around his fist, accentuating the gun’s grip and winding its way up the barrel. “Got some new tricks.” 

Mick nods in agreement. “That’s true.”

Len glances around at the fallen Legends. Most are starting to stir again, unsteadily climbing to their feet, though Haircut who’s been awake this whole time is staring at Len while Stein’s inspecting the frozen metahuman as closely as he dares. Len jerks his head towards the Waverider. “What do you say we get out of here?” he asks. “I think I’d like to come in out of the cold.” He holsters the cold gun, strapping it along his thigh and grins. “Maybe even get a little _heated._ ”

Mick’s dick throbs at the bad pun because it likes what Len’s hinting about. “Yeah,” Mick growls. “Yeah, Lenny. I’ll warm you right up.”


	2. Russians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard slams into the desk face first. He struggles against the hold on his arm, bucking back against it and trying to turn around but the man on top of him leans more heavily, grinding Leonard’s upper body into the hard, polished wood. His arm bends back even farther, feeling like it’s about to snap clean off. A few file folders flop to the ground, followed by the heavy thud of the phone, and Leonard’s picked up and banged down hard, one, twice, until the fight finally goes out of him. Struggling won’t get him anywhere. He needs surprise, too. He buries his feelings under a layer of ice, and goes limp against the desk. The man above him, rumbles approvingly. Leonard’s stomach twists.

Leonard slams into the desk face first. He struggles against the hold on his arm, bucking back against it and trying to turn around but the man on top of him leans more heavily, grinding Leonard’s upper body into the hard, polished wood. His arm bends back even farther, feeling like it’s about to snap clean off. A few file folders flop to the ground, followed by the heavy thud of the phone, and Leonard’s picked up and banged down hard, one, twice, until the fight finally goes out of him. Struggling won’t get him anywhere. He needs surprise, too. He buries his feelings under a layer of ice, and goes limp against the desk. The man above him, rumbles approvingly. Leonard’s stomach twists.

“Was that so hard?” another voice purrs. Alexei. Leonard tenses as a hand runs over his ass and cups, fingers digging into his jean-clad skin. Alexei’s touch is possessive in a way that makes Leonard want to scream and kick, but he does nothing. “If you could just keep that pretty mouth shut and do what you’re told, I think we’d get along, Leonard.” Leonard’s breathe rattles against the desk, sharp and harsh before he gets it back under control. The hand on his wrist is hard as iron. Alexei chuckles “Maybe you and Ivan can get along, too.”

The man on top of Leonard shifts, slotting between Leonard’s legs to grind against his ass. Leonard’s legs are kicked apart and his ice cracks under the pressure. He struggles against the desk, managing to get himself nearly free before Ivan’s strong arms wrestle him back under. He’s forced back down and Ivan’s hips thrust forward again, slapping against him as Ivan croons to him in Russian. Leonard shudders and goes limp again.

“He says that he likes your ass,” Alexei says, translating. “Especially when you push it into him like that. He’d enjoy fucking you, so keep struggling.” Ivan rattles off a little more and Alexei laughs. His hand slides over Leonard’s head. “If you were a good boy, maybe he’d let you come.”

Leonard ignores the words, already putting himself back behind his walls. He knows that he can do this. He has before. He’s survived worse than two Russians trying to exert a little power.

He should have been more careful. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. He should have listened to Mick and not taken this job. They’d both known that something was up, but the money had been too good. Now, Leonard knows why. Fucking Russians.

Ivan rubs his cock against Leonard again.

“See, I like you,” Alexei says. “I do. That’s why you’re still alive. Ivan likes you too, or he would have broken your arm. But neither of us like failure. So we’re reached, what is it?”

“Impasse,” Ivan tells him, the English barely emerging from his accent.

“Yes. An impasse.” Leonard breathes slow and steady against the desk. Ivan’s hard grip is a distant feeling. So is Alexei’s proprietary hand sliding over his face. Alexei jerks Leonard’s head upward and smiles at him. Leonard lets his gaze slip away, not interested in the game. “You have pretty eyes,” Alexei tells him. “Like ice.” When Leonard doesn’t respond, he laughs. “Fair. Ivan and I had a talk. We thought that we might give you another chance to do what you told us you could. One. Do you understand?” Alexei shakes Leonard’s head and Leonard slowly moves his eyes back over. “Fail again, betray us, and Ivan and I come looking for you. You end up on this desk again. You will cry, scream, beg as Ivan and I take turns.” Ivan rocks forward again, shoving Leonard back against the desk. “Our pretty little whore. Then maybe we sell you. Maybe we keep you. Maybe we slit your throat. None of it will you like.” He pauses. A finger slides over Leonard’s lips. “Do you understand?” 

Leonard nods. Yes. He understands. He will not fail again.

Alexei’s lips quirk into a smile. “Good.” He pushes Leonard’s head back down against the desk and forces Leonard’s face to rub over the wood. “Let him up.” The steel band of a grip releases Leonard’s wrist, allowing his arm to return to a more natural position and Leonard bites off the quiet hiss of relief at the loss of pressure. Ivan’s hands stop momentarily on Leonard’s hips, fingers slipping over his sides to hold him still as Ivan grinds forward one last time before stepping away. Freed, Leonard counts to three to collect himself and make sure this isn’t a trick before he pushes himself upward again. He turns, putting his back to the desk and facing both of the Russians. 

Alexei’s grinning, sharp like a feral dog. Ivan’s hard, tenting his jeans. Leonard swallows. “Do not fail again,” Alexei reminds him.

Leonard nods again and slides to the side, circling around them to reach the door. They watch him go, eyes hungry. Leonard fumbles for the handle and twists, opening the door without looking at it. He has the feeling that if he were to take his eyes off of them, that they would pounce. The door closes between them, the Russians on one side and Leonard on the other and Leonard finally dares to breathe again. He takes a deep, steadying breath and then heads for the street. His skin still prickles like he’s being watched, which isn’t far-fetched.

He makes it to the street, leaving the warehouse and past three blocks before the prickling sensation goes away. The tension in his shoulders finally eases, but Leonard knows that he’s not safe. He’s never been safe in his life. It’s hardly new.

He needs to find Mick, tell him that he was right and that Leonard should have listened to him. Then they need to make some plans. 

Leonard isn’t going to fail again. No, he will successfully get into the vault. And then it will be time for two Russians to disappear. Maybe there’ll be a fire. Mick would like that.


	3. Pissed off cat!Len (Gen or slight Coldwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the [prompt](https://legendsofsuperflarrowmemes.tumblr.com/post/158975087617/pissed-off-catlen-is-taken-care-of-by-mick-who): "Pissed off cat!Len is taken care of by Mick who thinks its super fucking weird but well he’s always loved animals. Stop looking at me when I’m naked, Len. You’re a cat. You’re making it weird."

Mick sits down on the bed and grabs the TV remote. He pushes the power button as he lays back against the pillows and a perky blonde flashes to life on the screen to talk at him about the news. Mick changes the channel. Beside him, Len silently judges him.

Mick turns his head a little to catch Len out of the corner of his eye, feeling Len’s judgmental stare. “News is boring,” Mick grumbles. Unless it’s a fire. Then it’s beautiful. This, though, had been something about a new statue or something and there was no way that Mick was going to force himself to watch it, not even for Len.

Len sticks his nose in the air like the uppity bitch Mick’s always known him to be then diverts his attention. To Mick’s cock. He stares and Mick feels a flush creeping down his neck. He flips the edge of a blanket over his naked crotch and glowers as he changes the channel again. “Stop looking at me when I’m naked, Len,” he growls. “You’re a cat. You’re making it weird.”

Len swishes his long gray tail irritably then wraps the poofy fur around his legs. Mick had better not come out of this with a weird thing for cats. He’s already screwy in the head and Len ties him up in enough metaphorical knots just be existing. He glances down at Len’s floofy body and Len peers back at him with knowing blue eyes. Cripes. Mick glances away. Yeah, he’s screwed.

“It’s not my fault you got turned into a cat.” Really, who the fuck could have predicted that the chick with the crazy hair hanging outside of the bar was an actual witch—with, like, _powers_ and shit. Oh, right, ‘enchantress’ as she preferred to be called. Thus why Len was ‘enchanted.’ To be a cat.

Len sulks a little, dropping his head to glare at the bed and Mick knows that Len’s no doubt saying some pretty cutting things in his little cat head. “We’ll get you fixed, Len. Promise.” Tomorrow, they were going to visit some witchdoctor or something that said that he might be able to help. If that didn’t work out, they’d try the next thing. Mick wasn’t going to give up on his partner.

Len stalks over to Mick and Mick tenses, already preparing himself for the claws, but Len just curls his poofy self up against Mick’s side and lays down. It’s…nice? Len’s fur feels soft, his body like a little miniature heater. Mick’s always liked cats. Animals, really. They’re better than people, don’t judge you for stupid little things. 

Tempting fate, Mick raises his hand and gently rests it against Len’s back. When Len allows the touch, Mick lets his fingers stroke a little in Len’s soft fur. Len averts his head and starts to purr, a rusty rumbling that eventually evens out. Mick smiles. This isn’t so bad. ‘Course, he can’t tell Len that. He’d get the claws for sure. But he can think it.

The fact that it’s Len in that little cat body is friggin’ weird, but it’s nice. 

Mick pets Len a little more and eventually settles on an old action movie on TV. 

Later on, when he wakes up to Len purring on his thighs, little toes kneading the inside of his leg, Mick ignores the potential awkwardness and drags Len up to his chest. Len keeps right on purring


End file.
